


Know Your Place, Brother

by DaNiCkStEr666



Series: Know Your Place Trilogy [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaNiCkStEr666/pseuds/DaNiCkStEr666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments away from a free fall to certain death, Loki has an epiphany</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Your Place, Brother

It was strange, dangling from the end of the universe, one hand held tightly on Gungnir, while his not-brother dangled in hollow space with him, holding the other end. Somewhere above, Odin held Thor, though he knew not where, his foot if he hazard a guess. It was on the cusp of death that Loki had an epiphany.

Thor would not let go.

The thought frightened him more than the ominous dark of space. Thor’s blue eyes pleaded with him, begging for forgiveness though Loki knew he was ignorant of his slights. Nothing had changed; nothing would, not with Thor as the crown prince. Thor would be a useless king, and though Loki held no interest in the throne, he would assume the role for the sake of Asgard. If he were honest with himself, and now seemed to be as good a time as any, he would admit to having a vested interest in the throne. Not because he wanted it, but because he needed it, he had to crawl on his belly to get out from beneath Thor’s thumb. He was driven to deceit and malice for his own perseverance. 

He stared at his brother in disbelief; the teary eyes and ashen face were misplaced on such a man. It was almost as if he cared, and maybe he did, once, maybe what he did to Loki was his warped version of love. He was the spoilt crown prince of Asgard; he could have anything he wanted, including his younger brother. 

Loki had always known there was a difference between them, apart from being polar opposites, there seemed to be a hierarchy in existence. Loki remembers when he was first left in Thor’s company, unsupervised. He was six and Thor was nine, so long ago he should not remember, but he does. He remembers Thor stripping him, and then rifling through his clothes, choosing what he should wear. He remembers fingers running through his raven hair, making it fall in front of his face and being told he was not allowed to move it. 

It was childish and petty, but it was also the beginning. Thor took great delight in helping the maid choose Loki’s outfits, in fact, with his help, there seemed to be an abundance of golds and reds in his daily attire. Loki can’t remember now, though he assumes he looked awful. He hadn’t the complexion to wear such colours, they muted what he had and helped him fade into the background. No one spoke ill of his attire, instead they praised Thor for his obvious love for his brother. 

He had lost the clothes war on the eve of battle; he was too young to identify the first step of Thor’s possessive behaviour. The next step, though not identified immediately, did cause him great injury in both the slight and the punch to the face. 

He was thirteen, and there was a great feast, as there always seemed to be. He remembers sampling the various meats, taking great delight in one, what it was he can no longer recall. He added more of the meat to his plate, unaware of Thor beside him, watching him with narrowed eyes. Before he had a chance to take a bite, Thor removed his plate. He thought it was a jest and reached for it, but Thor slapped his hand and scowled at him.

“Know your place, Brother!” Thor snapped and he passed Loki’s plate to Volstagg who took it gratefully, not knowing whose it was. Thor poked Loki in the stomach, harshly. “You are fat,” Thor spat with hate, and Loki was riled.

“Not as fat as you!” He hissed back, not quite the wordsmith he would later become. Thor’s eyes were like ice and Loki was chilled to the bone. He had enjoyed his act of retaliation, but after the fact, he was wondering if it had been worth it.

Later that night he realised he should have stayed quiet. Thor came to his room, drove his meaty fist into Loki’s face, knocking his younger sibling to the floor. His temper not abated, he dragged Loki up by his golden collar, shook him and dared him to defy him again. 

Loki did not. His submission brought a cruel sneer to Thor’s lips. “At last you know your place, Brother. I do not like this weight of yours; I shall choose what you eat.” Loki did not speak, for fear of what he might say. Thor shook an answer from him.

“Yes, Brother,” Loki agreed, dizzy. The next night Thor collected the food and placed it before Loki, before attending to himself. Both Frigga and Odin seemed delighted, while Loki secretly despaired. 

When he was fifteen Thor had taken to dressing him in tight black leather. Loki added the green in an act of defiance, but Thor did not mind and he was not punished. It was during this time that Thor invited him to spar with himself, the Warriors Three, as they had taken to calling themselves, and the misfit girl simply calling herself Lady Sif. 

They were a droll bunch, though too obsessed with honour and death for his liking. There was nothing honourable in lining outside the gates of Valhalla before your time. He was only allowed to spar once a week; Thor had taken to his pale complexion and did not want the sun to spoil it. Loki didn’t mind, a little freedom was better than no freedom at all. 

He was almost sixteen, and frankly the sparring lessons were none existent. He had watched them spar from above in his tower, but when he joined they played a game. It became known as ‘the marauding troll’ where one of them would be said troll, one would be the damsel in distress, and the others were the heroes that defeated the troll and saved the damsel. Loki always played the damsel on Thor’s orders, and Thor was always the victor that rescued him, except when he was the troll and defeated the heroes and got to keep him. 

On his sixteenth birthday Thor demanded he pay the damsel debt. Loki did not know what that was, and naively asked when they were stood outside of his bedroom. Thor was useless with words, he always had been, he was a man of action and the action he took was to throw Loki over his shoulder and storm into his room. 

Loki was unceremoniously dropped onto his back onto his bed. He laughed because he was unassuming, he later cried when he realised how naïve he was. Thor climbed on top of him, grasping his golden collar, something that had been woven into all of Loki’s outfits, and smashed their lips together. The kiss was painful because Thor was a brute that simply took what he wanted. That night was no different, the damsel debt was paid and Loki was left crying and bleeding with Thor’s voice in his head. “Know your place, Brother.”

After that night Thor demanded that he pay the damsel debt every night, though he only played the damsel once a week. He tried to correct Thor, though it was futile and that night left him sore and bleeding and those cursed words ringing in his head. 

Thor’s monopoly on his life forced him to rebel, but Thor had compromised his life to such an extent, that his mischief seemed petty. His mischief was his way of crying out for help, by annoying those closest to him, so they would have to acknowledge him and look. He was sure he carried his abuse as obvious as if he was carrying a sign, but no one commented on it. 

In fact, he had heard whispers that he was the evil prince, a forked tongued liesmith that monopolized all of Thor’s time and attention. They said he was greedy and selfish, wanting his brother all to himself. Granted, he shouldn’t have chopped Lady Sif’s hair off, but just because he did, didn’t mean it was because he was jealous because she was the one woman Thor spent his time with. He cut her hair to make her see, but she could only see a leather clad viper. 

During his twenties he’d given up hope of finding help and lost himself in magic. Thor despised sorcery, so naturally Loki excelled at it. It was during this time that Loki learnt to change his skin, and he changed into a woman resembling Sif, because Thor had not touched her. 

Nobody was impressed with his new ability, but that did little to deter Loki. Instead he took to his new form, flirting with the guards and smiling coquettishly at Thor. Thor always scowled and looked away, while Loki was reprimanded for teasing his brother. He couldn’t stop himself; he couldn’t remember feeling so safe. His parents threatened to call him princess if he didn’t drop the glamour, he passed them designs for a tiara. 

It couldn’t last; he vaguely wonders why he thought it would. Thor was livid at his younger sister, and sister is what Loki chose to be. People teased him mercilessly for his decision, but he didn’t care, Princess Loki had far more freedom than Prince Loki ever would. 

His act came to ahead in the western valley, where the young princess was riding her horse. Thor had already left hours before, he, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif had an urgent quest. Thor was ever trying to prove himself a man so no one questioned him, least of all, Loki. 

Loki was enjoying the freedom of being a woman, horse riding, reading and sorcery were excellent traits for a woman. His clothes were no longer managed by Thor and he could eat till his heart’s content now that Thor had lost interest in him. Odin and Frigga naturally despaired and there was talk of finding him a husband so he would drop the glamour. He hoped his husband was nice, he jotted down preferences and left them for Frigga to find. 

Too long as a woman left him open for an attack. Thor hadn’t gone on a quest; instead he was awaiting Loki in the western valley. Loki remembered his horse startled, and suddenly a weight fell out of the tree, knocking him from the saddle to the leafy ground. The air was knocked from his lungs, and he could only wordlessly gape as his brother lay atop of him. 

Fear kept Loki’s silver tongue quiet, as Thor pulled at his dress, rolling it up to his waist. His hand went between Loki’s thighs and Loki cried out finally, and shoved at Thor’s massive chest. 

“Do you not love me, Sister?” Thor sneered, ripping off Loki’s smallclothes. Loki beat at his chest, though his hands looked like an infant’s against Thor’s muscular build. “Change back,” he ordered in a rumbling growl and waited patiently on top of Loki. 

Loki laid back and watched the sky darken as Thor’s rage built. “Know your place, Brother!” Thor shouted, and slapped Loki across the face, turning his head at the impact. 

Loki glared straight back at him. “I am not your bother!” Defiance felt freeing but the thunder was ominous, as well as Thor’s scowl. 

“Then you shall be my queen and I shall put a child in your belly.” Fear gripped Loki’s heart at Thor’s conversational tone. He beat at his brother, pulled his hair and scratched him, but Thor took his sister’s virginity and returned home with his brother. 

He remembers the princess returned a prince and from then on chaos ensued in Asgard. No one was safe from his mischief, no one bought his lies anymore, and they said he was a devil child, too clever for his own good. They never realised he wasn’t clever enough. He couldn’t stop Thor. Then as Thor’s head was being turned Loki fought to keep his brother’s attention. Everything he had been accused of was coming true. He was jealous when Thor paid attention to other people; he did want his brother all to himself. That would be fair, equal, if he was Thor’s then surely Thor was his. 

In truth he loved Thor, but he hated him. Thor had taken everything from him and gave nothing in return. He made Loki into the man he was, so subservient Loki spoke of his true feelings the day of Thor’s coronation.

Loki could never stop Thor having him, which was strange as he could always manipulate him to do his bidding in other areas. It was too easy to make him go to Jotunheim and start a war with Laufey. Thor was a predictable imbecile and far too rash to be king. His own invite startled him, and he agreed because it was a silent order, not a request and deep down there was a six year old that loved his elder brother dearly. He also wanted to show Thor that he wasn’t the damsel in distress and though he had spent the night beneath his brother, there would be no damsel debt. 

Maybe he was rash too, he just wanted to shine, to be Thor’s equal. But then he was grabbed and his world turned upside down. Thor got banished to Midgard, and Loki ran to his room in tears. No one came to console him; thankfully he didn’t expect them to. 

He hated himself as he lay on his bed, the sheets still smelled of Thor, of their lovemaking before the coronation. He wanted Thor beside him; he wanted to confess that he allowed the Frost Giants into Asgard. He wants Thor to strike him, and grab his arm so tight that it turns white, not blue. He wants Thor to be angry with him, wants him to scream, “Know your place, Brother!” He just wants to be Thor’s brother, because he fears he is not. 

He touched the Casket of Ancient Winters, the ice bled into his skin, and he asked the Allfather if he was cursed. He hoped he was, but knew he was not. 

“What am I?” He asked instead.

“You’re my son.” It’s worse than he imagined.

“What more than that?” He demanded walking towards, who? Who was the old haggard man before him? “The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?” He wanted Odin to deny it; he needed Odin to deny it.

“No,” Odin finally admited. “The aftermath of the battle I went into the temple and found a baby, small for a giants offspring, abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey’s son.” 

“Laufey’s son?” Loki asked, unashamed of the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Yes,” such a simple truth, yet it hurt so much.

“Why? You were knee deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?” 

“You were an innocent child.”

“No!” Loki contradicted, his mind was racing. “You took me for a purpose, what was it?” His heart was racing, he was panting, fearing the worst, knowing the worst. “Tell me!” He screamed at the Allfather. 

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day.” Loki felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. In this very room, so many years ago, he was told both he and Thor were meant to be kings and now he knows why. “To bring about a permanent peace, through you,” Odin finished. 

“What?” Loki gasped, but he didn’t want to hear anymore. 

“Those plans no longer matter,” Odin muttered. 

“So, what? Thor’s banished, so I’m no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might find some use for me?” Odin swayed unsteady on his feet.

“Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son, that’s how I chose to raise you. You are no different than Thor.”

“Yes I am!” Loki raged in protest. “I’m the monster parents tell their children about.”

“No,” Odin was swaying dangerously but Loki didn’t care. 

“You know, it all makes sense now. Why you favoured Thor all these years. Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!” Odin fell and Loki’s degeneration began. 

He decided that Thor needed to be dealt a crushing blow. They needed to be separated, because learning his brother was his betrothed all along hangs heavy in his heart. It all made sense, why he wasn’t allowed to tease Thor, why Thor got away with abusing him for so long. He was an abandoned Jotun runt, given to the prince on his third birthday; he was nothing more than Thor’s whore. 

He tells Thor that Odin is dead, he relishes the tears, he wants to taste them, but he doesn’t. Thor wants him, wants to come home, Loki knows he wants him on his back paying damsel debts. He lies easily and his stupid no-longer-fiancé believes him. Thor’s friends are harder to convince, but he doesn’t care because he’s king and Sif hasn’t gotten over him cutting her hair off. 

As he watches over Odin while he sleeps, Frigga answers his remaining questions. “The day you were brought from Jotunheim you were his,” Frigga confesses. “He stole you from my arms and fussed over you, he was only three, but he held you correctly and he would never let you go. He fed you and played with you, I’m surprised you recognized anyone else.” Frigga tells the tale like it is a fond memory, Loki knows what it became. 

“Did he know Odin’s plan?” He couldn’t use the word marriage, it was too sickening. Frigga smiled sadly.

“No, I told him to tell you both but he’s so stubborn. Everything he does, he does for a reason, and you can have faith in that.” It is not faith but fear that sends the destroyer to annihilate Thor. Loki does not know Odin’s great plan, but he will not be given to Thor again. He will prove himself, beyond a shadow of a doubt; he has the mettle of a true king. 

Thor survived, and Loki, by defying Odin had played straight into his hand. It didn’t matter; he would destroy Jotunheim and end the war that Thor had stupidly started. It was a perfect plan, until Thor returned only it wasn’t the Thor that had left. His Thor would have demanded he know his place and beat him, this doppelganger daren’t raise his hand against him. 

His Thor would have watched the destruction of Jotunheim, and slapped him on the back for his quick thinking. This Thor looked at him in disgust, like Loki was the monster, like the years of abuse didn’t exist. A few days on earth didn’t change a man, and it certainly didn’t make up for centuries of abuse. 

Their war spilled out onto the rainbow bridge and Thor placed Mjolnir on his chest, something he had done many times before. It was embarrassing being stuck beneath a hammer Odin didn’t deem him worthy to lift. He wasn’t taking it, not like this, forced on his back, trapped again. 

He screamed, he raged, he threatened and to his horror none of that mattered. Mjolnir was summoned from him and Thor hammered away at the bridge. He tried to reason with him, did Jotunheim mean more than his human? Then it dawned on him that Thor was destroying the bridge for him, so they could be together. It wasn’t about Jotunheim, or that woman, it was about Loki’s salvation and eventual subjugation. Never again. 

 

It was awkward being minutes away from a freefall to death. He ought to speak, now was a better time than any to be heard.

“I could have done it, Father!” He shouted, trying to catch Odin’s eye, but all he was doing was shouting at Thor. “I could have done it for you, for all of us.” Because he was the king Thor could never be, because he was worth more than just being Thor’s whore.

“No, Loki,” Odin dismissed his claims, spoken and unspoken. He’d be given back to Thor; his act of war would be blamed on his hormones now that he knew he was with child, a curse from his Jotun heritage. Thor’s child. Thor’s threat of putting a baby in his belly finally saw fruition. 

Loki stared at Thor as the black of oblivion beckoned him. He never had a chance to be anything other than what Thor wanted; he refused to let the same happen to his child. If he pulled himself up on the bridge Odin would have them married. Death didn’t seem so bad.

“Loki, no!” Thor shouted, commanding him. Never again. 

Loki’s last act of defiance was letting go and plummeting himself and the bastard inside his belly into the abyss of space to the chorus of Thor’s screams.


End file.
